


Fortunam

by AccidentalAvenger



Series: Mortal Instrument AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras sighed. “You’re so cynical - sometimes I wonder if you have any of the angel’s blood in you at all.”<br/> “Raziel’s blood doesn't equal optimism,” Grantaire commented, glancing up from drawing a Dexteritas on the back of Enjolras hand with a wry smile, “If it did I would think that you have far too much Angel in you. To be honest I think you do anyway.”<br/>"Be serious," Enjolras said wearily, wishing his heart didn't flutter so stupidly at Grantaire’s words.<br/>“I am wild,” Grantaire told Enjolras with a wicked grin, “Now be quiet and let me finish or I’ll draw a rune of Quietude.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortunam

Enjolras tried to ignore the sting of the stele as his wild haired companion carefully drew the runes onto his bare arms.  
"The Clave is a terrible system!" he insisted, "It wastes lives, refuses to adapt, disrespects mundanes and is down right oppressive for downworlders. It needs to change!"

His fellow shadowhunter sat opposite him, head bent over his arm as he carefully drew runes for strength, stamina and agility. Enjolras had always been the better, more determined fighter but Grantaire was more precise, more patient when it came to runes. He was the best in the Paris Institute; surpassing even Feuilly who could forge powerful and beautiful weapons or Combeferre who knew the Grey Book and the Shadowhunter’s Codex backwards. 

"You don’t have to try and convince me," Grantaire told Enjolras, his voice amused. Enjolras tried to forget about Grantaire’s dexterous fingers pressing gently against his wrist, holding it in place as he drew a rune for precision onto Enjolras’ forearm.  
"I already know the Clave is crap," Grantaire explained, "I just don’t think we’re going to get anything better."   
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Enjolras told him, pushing up the sleeve of his shadowhunter gear so Grantaire could draw a rune of Heightened Speed on his bicep, “There are so many rules that could easily be changed. For a start that one about shadowhunter-downworlders relationships.”  
 Grantaire gave a snort. “It’s not like anyone takes any notice of that anyway,” he said derisively, “Look at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta - a happy, stable shadowhunter/shadowhunter/warlock relationship that one in the Clave gives a fuck about. Even I've had a fair share of downworlder relationships, although they’re probably more encounters than relationships.” 

Enjolras felt a flash of jealously but angrily continued with his point, regardless.  “Still - they refuse to recognize committed relationships as what they are. It’s just disrespectful and that sort of attitude needs to change!”   
“And you’re going to get yourself killed doing it,” muttered Grantaire, ducking his head.  
 “If need be,” Enjolras scoffed, the familiar bubble of Grantaire-inspired annoyance rising inside him, “Where will you be?”   
"Don’t worry - I’ll still be right here; marking Apollo up for battle,” Grantaire said sarcastically. 

Enjolras sighed. “Don’t call me that,” he said, “You’re so cynical - sometimes I wonder if you have any of the angel’s blood in you at all.”  
 “Raziel’s blood doesn't equal optimism,” Grantaire commented, glancing up from drawing a Dexteritas on the back of Enjolras hand with a wry smile, “If it did I would think that you have far too much Angel in you. To be honest I think you do anyway.”  
"Be serious," Enjolras said wearily, wishing his heart didn't flutter so stupidly at Grantaire’s words.  
“I am wild,” Grantaire told Enjolras with a wicked grin, “Now be quiet and let me finish or I’ll draw a rune of Quietude.” Enjolras gave an angry sigh but fell silent as Grantaire gently moved Enjolras head as he drew a Mendelin, a concealing rune onto his neck. Enjolras felt himself go hot as Grantaire’s hands moved against his neck and forced himself to look away from the focused blue eyes of the other shadowhunter. 

Grantaire finished the last rune, a swirling iratze in the crook of his elbow. Enjolras felt himself shiver as the other shadowhunter’s fingers brushed across the sensitive skin. He quickly made to pull away but Grantaire caught his wrist.  
"Wait a second," he told Enjolras, quickly pushing the sleeve of his black leather gear up and drawing an unfamiliar swirling pattern. He drew away, dropping Enjolras’ wrist. 

Enjolras tilted his head to get a proper look at the strange rune, almost shaped like a Rebus. Despite having studied the Grey Book for years he couldn't place it.  
"What is it for?" he finally asked, turning back to face Grantaire who was staring intently at him. His deep blue eyes made Enjolras shiver.  “Good luck,” Grantaire murmured, “it’s for good luck.”

A protest bubbled to Enjolras lips, something to do with luck not existing and not actually needing it anyway, but it was cut off by the soft, warm press of Grantaire’s lips against his. Enjolras gave a tiny gasp and lent into the kiss but Grantaire drew away quickly.  “That was for good luck as well,” he said with a small smile as he stood up, tucking the stele into his belt and pulling out a seraph blade, “We should go. The others will be waiting.”


End file.
